Apache Flame (30 page)

Rides the Buffalo turned in the saddle so he could see
Mitch’s face. “Are you really my father?”

“‘Fraid so. Is it such a terrible thing?”

Rides the Buffalo regarded him through somber black eyes.
“Are you going to take me away from my…from White Robe?”

“Not if you don’t want to go.”

“Why did I not grow up with you and the white woman?”

“It’s a long story, son.”

“I want to know.”

Mitch sighed. If the boy was old enough to ask, he was old
enough for the answer. “Your mother and I were in love. Our parents didn’t
approve, so I went away from home to find a place for us to live together. Her
father found out and sent me a letter, a message, saying that she had married
another man. I believed him. I didn’t know your mother was pregnant with you at
the time. When you were born, her father sent you away, and told your mother
that you had died.” Mitch paused. “Do you understand?”

Rides the Buffalo nodded.

“Your mother would never have given you away, son, you’ve
got to believe that.” Mitch took a deep breath. “She’s waiting for us.”

“She is here?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I have to call her mother?”

“Not if you don’t want to. I’m sure she’d like it though.
She loves you.”

Rides the Buffalo’s eyes widened. “She does not even know
me.”

“She’s still your mother. I expect you to treat her with the
same respect you give White Robe.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded. Like all Apache children, he had
been taught from birth to treat his elders with respect.

“We’ll be there soon,” Mitch said. He felt a shudder go
through the boy. Was it pain, or fear?

* * * * *

Alisha looked up from the meal she was preparing at the
sound of hoofbeats, felt her heart begin to beat wildly as she saw the burden
in Mitch’s arms.

Leaping to her feet, she ran to meet them.

“Is he all right?” she asked anxiously, and then, seeing
that Rides the Buffalo was asleep, she lowered her voice. “Where did you find
him?”

“He was hiding in a pile of boulders,” Mitch said. “Near as
I can tell, he’s none the worse for wear.”

Reaching up, Alisha took Rides the Buffalo from Mitch and
cradled him in her arms. Love welled up inside her as she held her son to her
breast at last.

She gazed up at Mitch, her eyes bright with tears. “Thank
you,” she murmured tremulously. “Thank you.”

Mitch nodded, thinking he had never seen a more wondrous
sight in all his life than Alisha holding his son in her arms.

Mindful of his injured shoulder, he slid carefully to the
ground and tethered his horse near Alisha’s.

“He’s heavy,” Mitch remarked. “Do you want me to take him?”

Alisha shook her head. “He is heavy,” she said, smiling as
she hugged her son closer, “but it’s a welcome weight.”

Moving closer, Mitch draped his good arm around Alisha’s
shoulder, then brushed a kiss across her cheek.

“We’re together,” Alisha said. “A family, at last.”

“He looks like you,” Mitch remarked.

“Like me? No.” She shook her head. “He looks like you, every
inch.”

“Be that as it may, I see you in him as well.”

“Do you think he’ll ever love me, the way he loves White Robe?”

Mitch nodded. “In time.”

Alisha held her son all through the night, reluctant to put
him down. She stroked his hair, his cheek, counted each finger and toe. Her
son, in her arms at last.

Her heart swelled with love as she gazed down at him. Her
son. Tears filled her eyes and dripped onto his cheek and she kissed them away.

Looking up, she saw Mitch watching her and she knew
everything she had ever wanted, would ever want, was there, within reach of her
hand.

* * * * *

She had thought Mitch would want to go back to the place of
the talking trees in the morning, but he seemed to be in no hurry to leave and
when she remarked on it, he told her he thought Rides the Buffalo needed a few
days of rest before they made the journey.

She suspected that was just an excuse, that he was giving
her time to spend alone with Rides the Buffalo. Giving them both time to get to
know their son better.

She was glad to see that the tension had drained out of
Mitch, that some of the anger had faded from his eyes.

Rides the Buffalo woke before dawn, his stomach growling
loudly. Alisha offered him something to eat and drink. He was asleep again
almost immediately.

He slept most of that day. Alisha sat beside him, reaching
out now and then to touch him, to reassure herself that he was really there. He
was a handsome child, with his long black hair and copper-hued skin, so like
his father.

Mitch went hunting in the morning and returned with a rabbit
and a couple of quail. The fresh meat was a welcome addition to the larder.

Rides the Buffalo woke late in the afternoon. Mitch took him
downstream to bathe and relieve himself while Alisha washed the boy’s vest and
leggings.

When they returned, the air was fragrant with the scent of
roasting rabbit.

Mitch ruffled Rides the Buffalo’s hair. “Let’s see what kind
of cook she is, shall we?” Mitch grinned as the boy’s stomach rumbled loudly.
“Good thing she skinned that rabbit. I think you’d eat it, fur and all.”

Rides the Buffalo looked up at Mitch and laughed, and
somehow that broke the tension between them.

Mitch and Alisha spoke of trivial things while they ate.
Rides the Buffalo said little, his gaze constantly moving between them.

Alisha smiled at him, hoping he would soon be comfortable in
her presence. It was all she could do to keep from sweeping him into her arms,
but she knew the first move had to be his.

“How’s your arm feeling?” she asked. “Does it hurt much?”

Rides the Buffalo shrugged. “A little.”

“And your ankle?”

“It hurts, but…”

“Only a little,” Alisha said with a smile.

Rides the Buffalo grinned at her.

“This must be difficult for you,” Alisha said, gesturing
from herself to Mitch. “Learning that we’re your parents.”

Rides the Buffalo nodded, his expression solemn.

“Do you have any questions we can answer for you?”

“Do I have to stay with you?”

Alisha looked at Mitch, not knowing what she should say.

“We’d like for you to come and live with us for a while,”
Mitch said.

“Where do you live?”

“In a place called Canyon Creek. I have a ranch there.”

“Is it far away?”

“Not too far,” Mitch said.

“Does my mother…does White Robe no longer want me for her
son?”

“Of course not,” Mitch said quickly. “But she’s your
grandmother, not your mother.”

A look of astonishment passed over Rides the Buffalo’s face,
and Mitch knew the boy had not considered that.

“So, you see,” Mitch said, “she will still be part of your
family. Our family.”

“What if I do not want to go with you?”

Mitch glanced at Alisha, then shook his head. “We won’t
force you to go with us,” he said. “Your mother and I want you to be happy.”

Rides the Buffalo looked at Alisha. “
Shi ma.”

Alisha nodded. She blinked rapidly, but couldn’t keep the
tears from welling in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

“Is it true that you thought I was dead?”

“Yes. I came looking for you as soon as I learned you were
still alive.”

“You didn’t give me away?”

“No, of course not! Why would I have done that?”

“Because I am Apache. The white eyes hate us.”

“Oh, no,” Alisha said. She laid her hand on his arm. “That’s
not true. Your father is Apache, and I love him. Just as I love you.”

“How can you love me? You do not know me.”

Mitch sighed. Rides the Buffalo had asked him the same
question.

“You’re my son,” Alisha said. “I loved you before you were
born.”

Rides the Buffalo considered that for several moments. And
then, with a weary sigh, he scooted closer to Alisha, curled up beside her, his
head in her lap, and closed his eyes.

Alisha glanced at Mitch, pleasure and astonishment evident
in her expression.

“I guess he likes you,” Mitch remarked with a smile. “But
then, so do I.”

Later, after Rides the Buffalo had been tucked into bed for
the night, Mitch and Alisha went for a walk along the river. A full moon played
among a handful of wispy clouds. A warm breeze whispered ancient stories to the
cottonwoods. Frogs and crickets played a lively serenade.

“Beautiful night,” Alisha mused. “Kind of reminds me of
summers back home, when we walked by the creek.”

Mitch laughed softly. “Bet I know what day you’re
remembering.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I never did get even for that day
you pushed me in the river.”

Alisha looked up at him and laughed, and then, seeing the
look in his eyes, she shook her head. “You wouldn’t!”

“It’ll cost you.”

“Cost me? How much?”

His gaze moved over her, hot as a summer’s day. “Make me an
offer.”

“One kiss.”

“Not good enough.”

“Two?”

“Miser.”

“Three?”

He shook his head. “You’ve got to do better than that.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted. You. All of you. Every
inch. Every touch.”

“Oh, Mitch…”

“Mitchy,” he said, drawing her up against him. “Call me
Mitchy.”

“Mitchy.” She loved him with her whole heart and soul. Loved
him as she had never loved another. “My Mitchy.”

“You look like you swallowed a piece of the sun.”

“That’s how I feel, too. I’m so happy.” She stood on tiptoe.
“Kiss me, my Mitchy.”

“Any time, darlin’,” he drawled. “Any time.”

She closed her eyes as his lips found hers. Magic, she
thought, it was magic, the desire that sparked so quickly to life, the way his
touch made her heart race, made every fiber, every inch of her flesh come
achingly alive, achingly aware. His clever hands moved knowingly over her body.
His kisses fell like warm rain on her face, her neck, her breasts.

Bending down, he took hold of the hem of her tunic and
lifted it over her head, and then, ever so slowly, he kissed his way back up to
her lips. She was quivering with desire, burning with need, when his mouth
covered her again.

Her hands trembled as she divested him of his clothing,
pulled him down on the cool grass beside the river. Straddling his hips, she
began to kiss him, gasping with pleasure as his flesh melded with hers.

He urged her on until he felt her shudder with pleasure, and
then he rolled her over and found his own fulfillment in her sweet flesh.

* * * * *

They stayed in the valley for three days. Alisha would have
liked to stay longer, but Mitch was suddenly anxious to get back to the place
of the talking trees and let his mother know that Rides the Buffalo was alive
and well. She felt guilty then, for wanting to wait longer. If she were in
White Robe’s place, she would be frantic by now, certain that her son was dead.

Rides the Buffalo seemed in good spirits. The swelling in
his ankle had gone down. His arm did not pain him overmuch though it would be
weeks before the break mended completely.

Mitch lifted Alisha onto the back of her horse, then settled
Rides the Buffalo behind her. Knowing, somehow, that he would never see this
place again, he took a last look around, wanting to imprint it in his memory.
And then he swung onto the back of his horse and led the way down the narrow
mountain trail that led out of Apache Pass.

Chapter Thirty-Five

It was close to midnight when they reached the place of the
talking trees. Two warriors stepped out of the shadows as they neared the
entrance. One of them lifted a hand in recognition, and then the two men faded
back into the shadows, disappearing so completely Alisha wondered if they had
actually been there.

The canyon was dark save for the last faint embers of a fire
near the center of the camp. Rides the Buffalo was asleep. Dismounting, Mitch
lifted him from the back of the horse and ducked inside Fights the Wind’s
lodge.

The warrior sat up as Mitch stepped inside.

“It’s all right,” Mitch said. “It’s me.”

Fights the Wind grunted softly. “I see you found the boy.”

“Yes.”

“Otter, is that you?”

“Yes,
shi ma
.”

White Robe sat up, her arms outstretched. “My son. Give me
my son.”

Picking his way through the half-dozen or so people sleeping
in the lodge, Mitch knelt beside his mother and placed Rides the Buffalo in her
arms.

Rides the Buffalo’s eyelids fluttered open. He smiled when
he saw White Robe. Snuggling against her, he closed his eyes and went back to
sleep.

“He is well?” she asked. Her gaze moved over Rides the
Buffalo’s face. “His arm…”

“He’s fine. Just tired is all.”

White Robe held the boy close a moment, then, settling him
on the blanket beside her, she laid back down, one hand stroking his hair.

Mitch turned to find Alisha standing in the doorway. He
glanced around, quickly realizing there was no place for them to sleep. Making
his way toward her, he took her hand and left the wickiup.

Outside, he unsaddled her horse, then, grabbing the buffalo
robe draped over his horse’s withers, he took Alisha’s hand and led her away from
the wickiups. Finding a flat stretch of ground, he spread the robe, then drew
her down beside him.

Alisha rested her head on his shoulder. “She’s not going to
let him go, is she?”

“‘Lisha…”

“What are we going to do?”

“‘Lisha, it’ll be fine.”

“I know we said we wouldn’t take him from her, but I don’t
want to stay here forever. I want to go home.”

“I know.” For a time he had entertained the notion that they
would stay here and make their home with the Apache, but he had given up that
idea when the cavalry attacked the village. On his own, he might have stayed to
fight, but he couldn’t risk Alisha’s life, or the life of his son. The war
between the Apache and the whites wouldn’t end until the Apaches had been
killed or they were all confined to reservations. In the mean time, there would
be more battles, more lives lost.